Booker turns to Entaro. "Well, sir, my last crew and I was, uh...salvagers, near Gralton, in the River Kingdoms. Since then I been just wanderin around, doin' odd jobs and such, makin' my way, just me and...hold on.

He starts rooting around in the suit's pockets, trying to find his things, and most importantly, his gun. While he's searching, he turns to Valai.

"Not necessary," Valai replies, her voice flat. "The punters look at the illusions, they do not look at me. It seems the construct requires you to state your willingness to comply with this game before it will agree to take you along for the ride. I suggest you all do so, lest you be left behind."

Turning to Keth, the Elfmaid says: "Define 'machine'. How are machines a race on Aballon? What other races live there?"

"Machine: an apparatus using or applying mechanical power to perform a particular task. Aballonians are a sentient race of machines and constructs capable of creating new machines of their kind, similar yet unlike to the reproduction of other organisms. Depending on needs, a new Aballonian will be created to fill a role, either one currently unfilled or left vacant by the destruction of a previous Aballonian. Other races on Aballon vary, mostly limited to minute organisms."

He turned to Booker. "Highly improbable." Then, his gaze shifted to Celia. "Lady Celia: ready." Finally, he rested on Quentin. "No means currently known for continuing travel."

Booker pulls out his gun. "Well, there we go. Me and Cally here, we been makin names for ourselves. I figger if need be, we can find ourselves a boat off that rock. We've gotten decent good at finding boats."

"Well I'm just a simple warrior with shiny armor and a big Hammer". "Pretty easy going...well I must admit if you see me turning red, and starting to foam at the mouth, you might want to stay away till I calm down,...but most of the time I just want to stay warm, have a full belly, and a reason to laugh".

I don't trust magic much, so I'm not sure about all that mumbo-jumbo you're talking about, but I'm getting hungry, so if this 'telephoning' thing gets us to where there is something to eat, I'm all for it".

"By the way, don't mean to be rude and all, but shouldn't you guys get right-side up before we leave"? "Don't want to arrive there on you heads, and break those fancy glass bowls".

For those looking at Boodka as he speake
Perception 15

Spoiler:

Not only is this guy really ugly, he's got a wooden eye in one socket with a very crude eyeball painted on it.

She twitched a little bit when she noticed the badly-painted wooden eye. If she ended up being a close friend of this orc, she'd make a point of getting him a better one if she got the chance (and wasn't too drunk to remember).

An oddity occurs; from behind the Elf, another being in a suit comes forward to stand close at her side. The oddity is that this creature is walking on all fours, is rather small and - if anyone bothers to look into its helmet - turns out to be a goat.

As Keth began the teleportation, his black eye filled with the image of stars. These were the same stars that filled the skies of Golarion for two weeks and would continually align themselves. They began to align yet again and Keth and the pressure suits started to glow with magical energies. A moment later, their vision was filled with bright light yet again, but it lasted only for an instant.

When the light subsided, they could the see the sun yet again. This time, however, it returned to its residence on the horizon, expanding across the majority of the sky. They were still very close to the sun. The barren area they found themselves in was mostly rock and dust, interspersed with the occasional crater. It was very desertlike save for the color of the ground- lustrous metallic with a grayish tinge.

From behind them came a cacophony of grinding gears, rumbling engines, and metal striking metal. Turning towards the sounds, they found themselves standing before a colossal, metal building. It was an imperfect rectangle, seemingly built from a multitude of sheet metals and scraps. Inside were the sounds of labor.

Celia tried to mimic rubbing her eyes with her gloves on the glass facial encasement as she acclimated, once again, to new surroundings. Remembering her mission, she turned around to make sure that everyone made it through the teleportation alright.

"Construct, answer my questions," Valai says, without taking her eyes off of the building. "What is the machine race's most likely response to our appearance here, especially at this proximity to their 'Automatrix'? What is the purpose of aforesaid 'Automatrix'?"

Marshall immediately adopts a more partial posture in response to the possible danger. He draws his sword and does a slow circle around the outside of the group, looking for any attention that might be focused on the new arrivals to the machine domain.

"I was new to human lands and asked a farmer what the smelly, aggressive, all-eating animal with the horns and beard in his yard was," Valai replies, shrugging. "He said it was a 'billygoat', and did I want to buy a young one. It was a simple mix-up."

"Fine with me if the monkey wants to scout it out. But lets all get ready to move. We don't know what could be out here. We don't rightly know what's in there either but at least we know what walls, floors, and ceilings are..."

Inwardly, she was a little upset. All of these billions of machines and probably not one brew. If she had to wait a lifetime for her next drink, she might just remove the suit and be done with it.
Then again, maybe she could use her spells to make cheap stuff in the suit. It should be possible... it had worked when she hid in a barrel a week prior.
Not now, of course, but maybe when things calmed down just a little.

And so they ventured towards the Automatrix. The behemoth seemed to shake, as if whatever was inside was barely contained by its walls. A light wind blew the metalic dust around.

As they neared the building, the walls shot open and revealed a giant automaton. It appeared to be a nightmarish spider, composed of a brilliant metal that shone brighter than a well polished shield in the light of the sun. Walking on ten pairs of legs, it towered almost as tall as the Automatrix itself. Slowly, it made its way out and walked over them without even a slight glance, heading into parts unknown.

The open doors revealed a tremendous workshop. Inside were an amalgam of forms both familiar and unfamiliar. They took the shapes of creatures such as crabs or flies, but also those of beings alien and unknown. This was the machine race of Aballon. The varius Aballonians varied in shape in size, from larger than a dinosaur, to as small as an insect. All of them minded their work, moving from scraps to workbench, dodging varius concetrated beams of sunlight, and tending to orders unheard and unseen. None paid notice to the strangers just outside. As quickly as they opened, the walls shut, shileding the inhabitants from the outside, yet again.

"Attention, please!" Valai says, raising her voice so she might be audible to the machines, and pounds on the wall with her quarterstaff. "We desire to communicate with you! Please present your best diplomat!"

We're aiming to get inside, we want to talk to them, and they need to let us in... I figured I might as well. Sorry if this turns out wrong. ^^;

"Hello, hello!" Valai says at the top of her voice. "Are any of you, uh, made for missions of communication and diplomacy? We wish to engage in dialogue with you at this time!"

The Elfmaid carefully steps inside, her goat moving at her side. "Do you hear and understand me? We wish to speak with an Aballonian or Aballonians made for missions of communication and diplomacy at this time!"

"At least part of this place's purpose seems logical to me," Valai says, gesturing vaguely in the direction the giant ten-legged construct went. "This must be these machines' womb, or birthing chamber, if you prefer. I assume they are making more of their kind -- among other things."

"Negotiation first, Graves," Valai says. She adds in an undertone: "Theft is an alternative if negotiation fails, but would probably cause of some ill-will with these... beings. And they outnumber us, and some of them are on the large and bulky side, hm?"